Living a Charmed Life
by Scruffybear27
Summary: Madge had always been the girl with everything, the girl with the perfect life. But looks are deceiving and who knows what's beneath the surface?
1. Silence

**Hello! Thanks for looking at my story. OK, this story will basically follow a different Hunger Games universe where Madge is the main character. It will basically follow the Hunger Games plot however, Madge will have a much larger role and a lot of the characters are going to have smaller roles. Please read and review so I can improve! Hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Neither the characters, nor the world they are in, are mine. They are Suzanne Collins', I am merely borrowing them and writing about them. End of.**

* * *

**Madge**

I tiptoe into the kitchen, holding my breath so as to make absolutely no noise. One wrong step, one sudden bang and Mother is gone for yet another week, bedridden by terrible headaches, completely unreachable, on her own planet of pain. I can't believe anybody would say my life is perfect. Because_ everybody_ wants their Mother to be stuck upstairs, totally cut off from them, cut off from everyone, their Father constantly away or else stressing about who knows what. In all honesty, I'd rather live in the Seam. At least I'd have people who could care for me. People who aren't ignoring me. I'm not saying that I envy them, I mean, who would, but... Who says I have to be happy with MY life? I'm not and that's the final word.

There's nothing at all for me to do anywhere in the house, and I don't dare to leave, so I collapse on the sofa and work on my sewing. It's nothing special, but it's totally silent so I'm constantly working on it. I find myself thinking about school. The lessons of course, anything social is an absolute nightmare. My only friend is Katniss, yet we don't even talk and doubt she thinks of me as a friend. It's funny; we don't properly talk, yet she's probably the only thing that makes my school life bearable. Sure, I'm fine in lessons but if I had no friends, what could I do? It would be hell for sure. A mass of pained groans snaps me out of my thoughts. I silently chastise myself, knowing I forgot to give Mother her drugs for the pain. She's just going to have to live through the pain. It's not going to kill her.

The groans continue for at least three hours, each wave worse than the last. I can never understand why exactly she has such pains. Gran says she never had these at my age, so what could've brought on such violent bouts of pain? It must've been incredibly bad; she once stayed in bed for three months, her body shaking uncontrollably with sobs, screaming to unknown presences to stop, leave her alone. It was right when she turned 50. Dad was always muttering then, something about birthdays and memories and the Games. Plus a lot of swearing mixed in there as well. I know Mother had a sister, my aunt Mayislee but Mother said she died from a disease. She never said what from though... maybe Mother had it and now she's haunted. But why would that stick around?

Eventually, I can't stand the noise any longer. If I even tried, I'd go insane. With baited breath, I sneak from the house as if my life depends on me being totally silent. At the moment, my Mother's sanity definitely depends on it. I idly wander through town with no particular idea of where exactly I'm headed. I'm a master at this by now; no-one pays much attention to what I do so I never really bother with permission or telling people where I'm going anymore. They'd forget for certain anyway. Eventually, I stumble upon the Meadow and lie on the grass, staring at the clouds as they float by. At some point, I drift to sleep and dream of a happy life where everybody cares. Where no-one suffers. Where I am loved.

When I finally awake, it has long since gone dark. Strange shadows flicker across the grass like spirits from some other strange world. It is petrifying. I have to get out, but what will I return to? Sitting in silence doing nothing and ignoring my Mother's pain, that's what. I may as well just stay out till morning, what harm will it do? I collapse back on the grass, exhausted, and fall back into a restless slumber. I stay in the Meadow till sunrise, when the birds begin to sing and the sun shines beautifully. I don't want to leave, I want to stay here forever. But I can't.

With a huge sigh, I heave myself up and head out of the Meadow, towards the gate that will lead me home. Almost no-one treads this path: the Meadow is usually for the Seam children to play on. This path leads to the rich area and almost no-one has either the inclination or time to go into the Seam. Except me. I've never been to the Seam, nor has any of the other Merchant's as far as I know. It intrigues me, interests me.. yet I don't have the nerve to go anywhere near it. I will though. Soon. Very soon.

By the time I reach home, it is already mid-afternoon. As I suspected, no-one has even noticed my absence. As usual. I dread the day someone decides that I need to be watched. Before, I was basically wrapped in cotton wool. I'm not losing my freedom. I sneak into the kitchen again and fall onto the sofa, exhausted from my adventure. I listen for Mothers breathing, for any tell-tale sign which will show her current condition. Nothing. Cautiously, I creep up the stairs, suddenly afraid of what I'll find at the top. As I come closer and closer to the top, the silence continues. The nervy feeling within my stomach intensifies, so much that I begin shaking. As I round the corner, I am suddenly struck with such a feeling of terror that I have to step back, lean against the wall. Building up as much bravery as I can, I push open the door and venture inside.

No-one is here. The sheets are strewn across the room. Clothes are thrown carelessly over the floor. The bedside table has been overturned, the contents broken on the floor by my feet. There is nothing that shows when my Mother left or why or where she went. The breath sticks in my throat and I suddenly find myself struggling for breath. What has happened? Where is Mother?

A broken window. I see it out of the corner of my eye and rush to it, as if it is the only thing that matters. There she is. There is my Mother. Outside, on the lawn under her window. In a pool of her own blood and surrounded by broken glass. Her body is twisted in such a horrible, unnatural way that she must have broken most, if not all, of her bones. There is a scrap of paper beside her, splattered with her blood. I look down and see another piece of paper by my feet. I pick it up and read. "I don't belong here. I don't deserve to live. I'm ending it"

My Mother has commited suicide.

* * *

**So, good or not? Please review so I can improve in future! :-D**


	2. Only the truth

**Hello! No reviews for last chapter, so please review this one! This chapter directly follows the last one so there's no confusion there. Please review and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games or Madge. Or any of the characters for that matter.**

* * *

Within two seconds, I am sprinting as if I am in the arena. I thunder down the stairs, for once not actually caring how much noise I make. It doesn't matter anymore. My Mother is lying in a pool of her own blood, slowly slipping away from me, from this world. At least she'd be free of pain. Free to do what she pleased... but not here. No longer could I know that she is just a walk away up the stairs. No more would she drag herself from bed just to sit in the kitchen and talk to me. No more would I see her. At all.

When I reach the kitchen, I desperately fling open the cupboards searching, searching for some sort of medicine, anything which could help me. I grab all the painkillers I can see. It's not much, but it's something at least, and who knows, it could just save her life. Without further ado, I throw myself outside. I collapse beside my Mother, shaking her for any signs of life. Nothing. Racking my brains, I manage to somehow remember some kind of first aid which could help me here. I check her breathing and, much to my relief, find she is breathing but raggedly and extremelylaboured. She's not gone. Not totally.

Any memory I have of what to do after has disappeared, along with my resolve and courage. I lie across my Mother's limp body, crying my eyes out. You never know, maybe I'll just stay here forever, guarding Mother from any more 's suffered enough. That's when I see it.

A note.

Without thinking, I grab it and smooth it out, expecting some kind of depressing last note to the world. Maybe I'll know why she did it. Glancing up, I see a crowd has begun to gather. No wonder, things like this are extremely rare so when they do happen, it's serious. Some one must have called a healer, anyone who can help. I settle down, hungrily scanning her note.

_Dearest Madge,_

_I am so sorry. I couldn't carry on any longer. We all knew I wasn't getting any better, in fact, I was just getting worse, getting deeper an deeper into a depressing spiral. I was drowning. Drowning in my own feelings. I was just pulling you down with me. You deserve better, you deserve a Mother who can drag herself out of bed to face her only daughter. That's not me. Don't think it was you Madge, it wasn't! In fact, it was far from it. You were my only link to the world and you were the only reason I carried on for as long as I managed. Don't blame yourself. I love you. Please, carry on, for me._

_Never forget darling, I will always love you,_

_Mother_

No. No, this can't be. This hasn't happened. It's a lie, a cruel joke. Suddenly, I become aware of my surroundings. I've been dragged from my position protecting Mother, placed away from her whilst she is fixed up. I see Mrs. Everdeen leaning over her, checking her breathing, opening her airways. She grimaces slightly; she's gotten worse. Supplies are spread around her and she looks ready to begin fixing her up. Brushing my hair from my face, I realise just how bad my own condition has become. Tears, sweat and dirt cover my face and clothes, making me almost unrecognisable. And I feel sleepy. So... tired...

* * *

Gasping, I jolt awake, lying in a strange bed in a strange room. The last thing I remember is being in the Meadow. Then it hits me, like a sledgehammer to the stomach. The blood. The body. She must be dead by now. Too long has passed. How could she be anything else? I saw her after all. I should know. I can't accept it though. For ten minutes straight, I try and try to convince myself to let her go, try and forget whatever I felt for her. Still, I find myself grasping onto her, unwilling or unable to let her go. I have to know her fate, or else I'll go out of my mind. I'll be like her, trapped in my own head. That will not happen. Not ever.

Tentatively, I call out. Almost inaudibly at first, I build up until someone hears. Footstep come padding along the hall and soon, Prim's face is peering round my door, smiling at me kindly. "You're awake then. Mother thought you might just be calling out in your sleep." She walks into the room, coming to sit beside me. Good. I could do with the company. And of course, the answers. "Do you remember how you got here?" she whispers, her voice becoming quieter, looking at me with sad eyes.  
"Yes..." I trail off at the end, looking off into the distance, my voice cracking.  
"I'm guessing you'd like an update then, wouldn't you? Give me a second, I'll need to show you something for you to understand..."

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I'll post the next chapter next Saturday. Until then, please review with any comments, suggestions, questions, anything! **


	3. Taking a step forwards

**And we're back again! Thank you to Chelsea Hill for reviewing. This chapter is just to show a bit of the changes since the 'incident', shall we call it! I've been sorting out my stories and this stories update day is Tuesday, every week. Now, please read and review and, over all, enjoy!**

* * *

**The following month...**

Nonchalantly, I stroll through the back streets of District 12, blatantly ignoring the disbelieving looks people adopt the second they clock my hair and eyes. I am blonde with blue eyes- why would such an obvious Merchant as me be wondering around the Seam without a care in the world? Well, that's what they think. They don't always do this, of course they don't; Prim walks around here everyday being positively adored. Yet with me, it has always been worse for some reason. You'd have thought that after two weeks of me being here every day, they'd get used to it but no. They are just as unaccepting as ever. If I'm honest, I think they'll probably stay this way forever. It won't affect me though. Nothing will affect me. Not again.

In almost no time at all, I am facing the towering fence which acts as a cage to the District, though if you ask, it's to keep out danger. What danger? The animals aren't dumb, they're not going to come strolling in to their deaths. Glancing around me, I speedily duck through a hole in the fence. It is the one weak spot of the fence and luckily, it is incredibly easy to get to. Stealthily, I venture into the wilderness, all to aware of how easy it would be for me to get lost. At first, it was a total nightmare to go out all alone, untracked, at the mercy of the unforgiving elements but it's faded until it is just about bearable. Just about. When I eventually reach the safety of the deep woods, I slowly allow myself to smile for the first time today. I feel... I don't know, safe here. Ironic really. In my modern, protected, perfect house, I feel at total risk, in constant suspense. In these haunted woods, where danger is literally lurking around each and every corner, I feel at perfect ease. Maybe they're right. Maybe I am weird after all.

It takes a few intense, gruelling hours, but eventually, I manage to trek up to the miniscule wooden cottage where I have set up camp. It has basically become my home away from home. And to be honest, I'm hardly at my real home either now. Mother is totally, indisputably bed ridden and Father doesn't give a toss about what I do. Well, he does. He does. But he's hardly ever around so what does it matter how much he WANTS to care when he can't actually care that much? And when he is actually around, he just ignores me. He is a useless, imbecilic brat. I hate him.

I briefly wrestle with the crumbling door, falling on the floor the second it opens. Typical. I haul myself to my feet and collapse, this time on purpose, on an armchair facing the fire. Grunting with the effort, I reach for the pile of newspapers on the floor at my feet. They're from everywhere, even the Capitol; I sneak them from Father's office when he is out on business. Which is a hell of a lot of the time, so I have a very large collection. I easily pass away several hours reading them intently for anything of interest, absolutely anything. Why? Well, they don't want us to know what's going on in the other Districts so I find out. Simple as.

As I've come to expect, it takes me no time at all to get back home compared to getting there and before I know it, I am sitting rigidly at the dining table, robotically eating my dinner, staring ay my plate as if it is my oldest friend. I make zero eye contact with anyone, not a soul, and stay deathly silence, letting the conversation wash over me, generally not getting involved. My Father realises this - of course he does, he's not an idiot - yet there is no effort in the least from his part to make me a part of anything. He just sits there, chatting away to April, the air-headed maid, and making a definite and recognisable commitment to not even glance my way. It must be hard for him.

I don't care.

The second we are allowed to rise, I bolt out of the door, back into the darkness of the village. There are shouts from behind me, questions and comments and a girly giggle (damn you April!). As ever though, in the end, I am alone, trekking along the freezing paths. Why make the effort to go out into the dark, cold night when you can just wait till morning and send off a Peacekeeper? That's Father's attitude to everything now; if it can wait till later, it will. That includes me, unfortunately. Apparently, I can still wait till later. After a month. And three days. Two hours. Not that I'm counting. Not that I care.

The abandoned mine looms in front of me like an unearthly ghost, ready and waiting to eat me whole. I walk straight in. The rickety old wooden beam, which is just about ready to collapse and make this whole place spiral into a total disaster area, holds a flask of water and some food. Retrieving these, I head deeper into the mine, deeper into the darkness. When the light is simply a speck, I settle myself down on the sooty floor, setting myself up for the night ahead. It doesn't take much. As expected, I sleep perfectly and wake up when the first ray of light hits the mine. Time to go home. Yay! I can't wait!

While I stumble home, I attract several - more than that actually, but still - disbelieving looks. They can't believe I'm Merchant, as always, but now I'm covered from head to toe in soot. I look as if I have been sleeping in a mine. I have. It's not that I don't like sleeping my own bed. It's riddled with memories though. Mother. All around me. Suffocating me. I had to run. To the mines. As anyone would. There IS a reason, though nobody has bothered to ask. There are no memeories of anything in the mines. I had never been there before. So, I could start anew when they all became marred. It was obvious. To me at least.

Once I am home, I head straight up into my bedroom and get myself ready for school: can't have anyone thinking I am going down in the world. That would never do. The teachers would go bonkers. They have... standards, they say. Anyway, if I appeared to be scruffy, all hell would break loose. And that would draw attention to me. And that would be a nightmare. A total, complete nightmare. Another hell on earth.

* * *

**There we go! Another chapter done! We're getting into some more interaction now and other characters are going to begin to come in. As I said earlier, the next chapter will be up on Tuesday. :-D**


	4. Taking a step backwards

**Hello. You will probably be pleased to know that I have (finally) managed to sort out all of my stories so there will definitely be a chapter up every week, usually on a Tuesday. Now, onto the chapter. This basically flows on from the last chapter, just with a little lapse of time. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Madge Clara Undersee, come down here this instant, or I swear, you will not be leaving this blasted house until the very day I die!" I hear a deep bellowing voice resounding around the entire house, searching for me and trying oh so hard to drag me from my safe haven. That's not going to happen, not any time soon. Instead, I simply stay precisely where I am, waiting, waiting for the next call, which will almost certainly cause a few roof tiles to slip. It never comes. Instead, I hear deafening stomps drawing closer to my bedroom, the hammering of fists nearly splintering my door. He means business this time then. Still though, I hold my ground, not making any attempt to draw closer to my searcher. Let him find me, since he suddenly cares so much. Once upon a time, I tried to get his attention and failed miserably. Just let him see how hard it can be.

As I expected, Father soon realises that I'm not emerging from my room any time soon and instead just comes barging right into my room, invading any measure of privacy I have ever had, a picture of complete madness, threatening to overflow at any moment. I swear, there is a scarily high possibility his head will just explode into a million tiny little pieces before he has the chance to even contemplate leaving this room. You know what, I don't care how much trouble I get into, the look on his face is totally worth it. It's such a shame there's no cameras about; they would quite possibly be the best blackmail photos in all of the world.

"Madge?" he whispers, eerily calm considering his current condition. For the first time in a very long time, I feel a few shreds of apprehension rise in my stomach.  
"Hmm?" I reply, glancing slightly from the book in my lap to gauge his current condition. It's getting a whole lot worse, very quickly.  
"Oh, I do believe you know exactly what. Care to enlighten me as to why exactly you have adopted such... odd habits?"  
"Odd habits? Father, does that really sound like me?" I ask sweetly, trying to appear as innocent as possible. Unfortunately, this seems to simply rile him up even more.  
"I was disbelieving as well when I first found out," he answers, staring at me straightly, "But there is an overwhelming amount of proof. In fact, I witnessed it myself. Sleeping in the mines? Staying in the meadow? Look around you! People would kill to be in your shoes yet here you are, running away to the Seam of all places. Well, consider it over. You are not leaving this house unless you are going to school, where you will be monitored at all times. You are my daughter. Start behaving like it."

Before I am fully aware of exactly just what has happened, Father has already left the room, probably trying to put as much distance between us. You can't say he's not intelligent, simply not caring. Suddenly, it hits me straight in the stomach like a sledge hammer. I am a prisoner in my own wretched home. I will be trapped in my own personal nightmare, unable to escape the past, the memories as I have been doing for so very long. How could he ever justify this? He must know what I have gone through, what I am still going through, yet here he is, making it a million, no, billion, times worse. Well, let him try to keep me in. It might make for an even funnier face than before.

* * *

The next morning, I prepare myself for the day stretching out in front of me. Messily piling my pale blonde hair on top of my head, I carefully wipe any remains of soot from my face, so as to appear as if I have simply slept in my own bed, safe and warm. Quickly, I change into my drab school uniform, perfecting my appearance for the long, long day ahead of me. After all, today is the first day I am going to have to escape the watchful eye of Mariam, our family maid. Father has drafted her in to make sure I stick to his rules like glue throughout the entirety of the day. Who doesn't think that sounds like fun? Honestly, it's as if he doesn't trust me... which, to be honest, is really quite understandable, despite how maddening it may be. Lately, I've been sneaking out at every opportunity I can get. Plus some.

The exact second I emerge from my room, Mariam is standing smack bang in front of me, hands on hips, a full two inches taller than me. To be honest, I'm used to that though "Come on young lady, you're late!" She grabs the back of my pinafore and practically hauls me down the stairs, scooping up her keys on the way out. No matter how hard I struggle against her, her grip stays as strong as iron so eventually, I just allow myself to stumble along the paths beside her, realising how little chance there is of me ever escaping her watchful eye. Oh, just wait until the others find out about this. Madge Undersee has to accompanied everywhere with her maid. It'll be the next big gossip for sure. Well, isn't everything the next big gossip. What does it matter? I hate them all anyway, every single one of them.

The second we arrive at the gates, Mariam promptly relaxes her grip on me and instead harshly shoves me towards the doors. I turn and stare disbelievingly back at her, unwilling to go anywhere near my class with her. "You can't meet anyone" I say, crossing my arms and adopting my best death glare. She doesn't even flinch. Rude.  
"And how, pray tell, are you going to keep that up?" she laughs unkindly, "I have strict orders to stay with you all day, every day. That's precisely what I'm going to do." She stomps past me towards the head teachers office. Silently groaning, I trail after her.

When I am finally allowed into the office, a fearsome sight awaits me. Mariam is standing there, a smug smile on her thin, sallow face. Her dirty blonde hair hangs around her face in ringlets, emerald green eyes sparkling with victory. "Madge, I am lead to believe you Father has authorised Miss Stanway here to accompany you throughout the day. This is correct?"  
"Yes Mrs Caddick." I mumble lowly, staring intently at the floor.  
"Hmm. Why exactly has you Father decided this action is necessary? As far as I know of, you've never been in any serious trouble in your time here."  
"It's... complicated." I mutter. If she even knew the half of it, she would probably end up fainting. Maybe even just dropping dead on the floor. I should do a test on that.

* * *

**There we are! Please review and, as I said before, the next chapter will be up on Tuesday.**


	5. It will be done

**Hello! Sorry for the late update, things have been crazy lately. Quite a bit of swearing in this chapter, just to let you know. It begins where Madge is in class, just to clear up any wondering. Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games are not mine, only my OC's are. This applies to all before chapters as well.**

* * *

I can hear the sniggers of countless girls wafting through the air, making it almost impossible for me to concentrate on anything. I try and try to get on, to ignore them but every time, I end up staring at the front, grimly trying to imagine they are not here, they are not on this planet, they are not alive. As far as I am concerned, they have never even set a foot in this universe. Smiling away at this beautiful image, I am pulled from my dreams by a sharp nudge by Mariam. She smiles at me sweetly, pointing at the board. As if she isn't aware that I know about a thousand times more intelligent than her. For one, I atcually go to school, and I didn't drop out at 15 to go and lick the shoes of the Mayor. She thinks all her dirty little secrets are safe but she has a total other thing coming.

At break, I almost knock over the desk in my haste to leave the class. Who needs fucking Geography anyway? Everyone knows the Capitol is all powerful, why have an entire lesson on it? I head straight to the toilets, trailed by a determined Mariam. She won't give up. I'll have to make her. I lock myself in one of the cubicles and pack my bags against the door, effectively blocking it from anyone trying to get in. As I thought, she soon comes banging on the door, demanding that I get out of there this instant, she doesn't care if I shit myself. Lovely. I just stay put, knowing that she will soon decide to 'outsmart' me and force the janitor to open the door. She's SUCH a genius.

When she leaves, I clamber from the cubicle, picking up all my stuff from behind me; she'll make him blast it down whether there's evidence or not. I storm out of the school, heading wherever my feet decide to take me. The bell screeches out its call for me to return, but I just keep on going, unwilling to return to the hawk that is my maid. There'll be another one, a better one, but for now, I'm free to follow whatever whims I may come up with. Home is out of the question. Or maybe it isn't...

I throw the brick up and down slightly, deciding if I am really doing the right thing. After all, what has he done to really deserve this degree of comeuppance? Roughly a thousand instances flash through my head and my decision is made for me. Father will be sitting in his office at the moment, planning the Reaping in the square. This will scare the life out of him, and probably mean that I won't be allowed to see daylight for many, many years. But I have to do it, I have to show him that no matter what he thinks, I'm not just going to sit down and do exactly what he says. Taking a deep breath, I ready myself for the plan. This better work.

I throw the brick in a (almost) perfect arc and watch as it crashes through the glass, splintering it into millions of pieces, sparkling like tiny diamonds littering the grass like carelessly thrown glitter. Along with the spiralling flowers, the garden looks like some kind of fairyland. Like one of the books Mother used to read to me when I was little. I loved them. I used to love going to bed just so I could hear them. She was better then. Not as ill and not in anywhere near as much pain. Collapsing on the grass, overcome by emotion, I abandon my mission and just curl up crying, desperate for some kind of escape, some place for me to mourn my lost life, my lost Mother. Let him come and see me like this. Let him see what he's done. Let him see how much of the problem he is.

Lying in a heap, I don't see a soul for hours on end, allowing me to cry and cry until the only thing I can do is lie there, unable to talk or move or do anything at all except stare at the sky. No noise filters into my little bubble of mourning. The world leaves me alone for hours on end, not making a move to distract me. It probably realises that if it even thought about it, I would kill it. Well, do it a bit of harm. Slaps, scratches. It's all the same, really. Soon though, I'll be back in normal life, taunted by careless 'friends' and harassed by teachers. How am I going to carry on like this? How am I supposed to accept everyone forcing me to be just as I was when everything has changed? How am I expected to be better than everyone else because I'm the mayor's daughter? How, how, how? Slowly, a plan forms in my mind.

This is going to be the day that everyone sees you can't make someone be something they're not.

* * *

The next day, I prepare just as I always do. No-one suspects a thing, not a single person. My efforts partly go to waste though; apparently, no-one has seen Father since yesterday when I pulled that little trick. He wouldn't have done anything though, would he? Of course he wouldn't. He's probably just sorting out some big problem somewhere, like always. Making my way to the bottom of the stairs, I see Mariam is missing, probably off devising her next great strategy to keep me under lock and key. Good luck with that. I sit down calmly, going through my exact routine as I always have. No point deliberately making anyone suspect something. I'm going to need luck to pull this thing off. As I thought, Mariam soon comes bustle into the room, demanding this and that, making the atmosphere about 100% more depressing. Time to start this thing.

Smiling as sweetly as I can manage, I walk up to Mariam, holding out my hand. "Mariam, come with me! I want to show you something." Practically dragging a rgumbling Mariam along, I head for the pond near the bottom of our garden. Swirls of beautiful flowers and and waist high grass surround it, almost completely hiding it from view. You have to know it's there to see it, and that is going to come in handy. Very, very much.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Please review!**


	6. Change

**Hello! This is just a quick note to tell you that I'm going to change this story. I don't have much interest in telling the story from Madge POV anymore so the POV is going to change from chapter to chapter. The style might also change as well, like a diary one chapter and a letter. But, the story will still centre around Madge and each chapter will have a focus on her. Anyway, here's a short chapter so you didn't just come here to read me explaining next chapter. Thanks!**

* * *

I should be used to this by now. I should've accepted this by now. I mean, this has always been the way, all my life, all my Father's life, hell, most of my Grandfather's life as well. They control us. Each year, I troop into the square with everyone else, every year Father gives his stupid little speech, every year the worry passes like it never happened. Except for someone, their life is in tatters. They will die or be forced to work for the Capitol. Of course, they're told it is brave and good and they are showered with gifts while they're there: food, clothes, water. They are simply being forced to do the Capitol's will to show everyone else how they are 'all-powerful'. And the second they become a Victor, well... They are the Capitol's pawn, being tortured in the shadows, already well and truly broken by their experiences. Each year, they mentor a Tribute that dies, usually two. Only one manages to get theirs out alive, and then they must return with them every year. Only one keeps a clear conscience. They must haunt them every day, every night. Like I wouldn't know what that's like...

* * *

**Sorry it's just a paragraph, but as I said before, the main purpose of this update was to tell you about changing my story. Thanks and please review, either about the story or the change.**


	7. Mr Undersee

**Hello everybody! This is the first of my different POV stories. None of my story took place in this, so Madge is just as she is in the books. t's a little short but I didn't want to just stretch it out for the sake of it. Please read and review and, of course, enjoy!**

* * *

**Mr. Undersee's (The Mayor's) POV**

She shouldn't be like this, not at all. She should be a world away from this. She's only 15, just a girl, just a teenager, yet she already acts as if she can do everything by herself, as is she needs no help from anyone, not even her parents, her friends, her teachers. Like she's a fully-fledged adult, with nowhere to turn. She should be enjoying herself, letting herself be young, allowing herself to make mistakes and let others help her. But she doesn't. And she never has and she never will. She grew up too fast. Just like the others... Just like all the others.

As the Mayor's daughter, she should have it easier than most. After all, she has plenty of food, a warm home to shelter in and the least possible number of slips in the Reaping Bowl. 6. Some have over 30, simply to stay alive. They need the Tesserae, they need it to live. Though, the supplies they receive are pitiful, not enough for one person at all. They live on it though, and that is what matters. I dread to think what would happen if that wasn't there. Starvation is already such a problem. Bodies litter the street at the height of winter, hollowed faces and empty stomachs. Those who manage to survive are weak, malnourished, left to hang on by the skins of their teeth. Compared to them, Madge is living the very best life possible yet, compared to the Capitol, she is living in poverty - her life is undesirable, poor, for those less fortunate. And there are still so many more less fortunate than her. She sees them, starving, weak, desperate and it has made her grow up. So very fast.

Every year, I see her there, standing in the crowds at Reaping Day along with every other child. She doesn't need to listen to my speech - I spend more than half my time before the dreaded day reciting after all - but she still hangs on to every word, listening intently. I never know what she thinks of the words, the lies. Does she believe this is right? Does she think that the Games are the solution? Or does she just not care? We never talk about them; they just happen. She's nowhere near as at risk as everyone else, but she is still at risk. The last Mayor's daughter was Reaped. She died as all the rest had, at the hands of the Capitol. At the end of the day, she was no different from the children from the Seam. But they forget this. They all forget that she is still entered, she still has her name in that bowl, still has a chance of being shipped off. There are simply less.

She did nothing to deserve them, it was the way she was born, it had nothing to do with her. Yet it is still somehow her fault.

I've seen the Hawthorne boy. Ranting furiously about the unfairness of it all, about how it is a scheme, about how it is an abomination, snarling harsh words at anyone who thinks different, anyone who is favoured. Such as Madge. I'm sure he'd give the house a wide berth, never come near it were it not for the Everdeen girl. She's the only friend Madge has and they don't even say over a few sentences to each other. No one else wants to be friends with the quiet girl who's Father runs the District. It has always been the same way, ever since I can remember and a far way as well.

She was always the same, ever since she was a toddler. She would never run around in the Meadow like the other children, would never join in as the other Merchant's ran up and down the streets, playing whatever imaginary game they'd come up with this time. She never talked to anyone when she started school. The only person who talked to her for the first half of her life was Delly Cartwright, who would chat to just about everyone as long as they could reply. As she grew older, she retired more and more into herself, into her books, into her own head. If it weren't for the Everdeen girl, she would be alone for the whole of school, left as the odd one out.

I see her every day, trooping off to school, like a clockwork soldier. I know she doesn't want to go; what possible reason does he have to enjoy it? But, it's gotten so much worse of late. I can only hope, I can only pray that this will pass, that this is just a phase. She won't speak a word about it, no matter how hard I try to get it out of her. Every attempt ends with silence, a shaken head and me alone in a room, left to dwell in my thoughts. I tried so hard to keep her away from that, to make sure she wasn't defined by her social standing, but what did it come to? Exactly what I feared.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it! Any requests for POV's or situations, put them in a review and I'll try to include them. Peace!**


End file.
